


whetstone

by shuofthewind



Series: the dark between the stars [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alderaan, Alderaanian Diaspora, Awkward Romance, F/M, Jyn And Cassian Are Quiet But Not Particularly Subtle, M/M, Mission Fic, Post-ANH, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 01:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12378246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuofthewind/pseuds/shuofthewind
Summary: They're finished with their first mission. Now it's just the matter of downtime.[Part of thefloating, sinkinguniverse. Mostly just fluff.]





	whetstone

**Author's Note:**

> I'm plotting out both the sequel to f, s and the Partisan!Cassian fic, but! Hopefully this will tide y'all over for now.

The first mission ends fast.

It's not because it's easy. On the contrary, it's fairly difficult--infiltrating an Imperial planet, contacting the Alderaanian resistance, convincing them that Leia Organa is, indeed, alive and does, indeed, want them somewhere safe--but it goes quickly, at least. No casualties on their side. The only injury is to Baze, and that's just a scuffing blasterburn on his shoulder, when he'd taken his armor off in a moment of silence. (Chirrut won't stop mocking him for it. Cassian thinks--knows--it's because it's the only way Chirrut can make his fingers stop trembling.)

The _Last Hope_ is too full, though, on the way back to the fleet. They've collected recruits. More than he anticipated, and none of them have been vetted the way they would have been if he'd had his way, but there had been little time for back alley interviews with skullheads on their tails. It means that the rooms they usually use themselves have been given over to Alderaanian refugees, resistance fighters, engineers, matriarchs. No one in Rogue One has a place of their own. The only one it really seems to bother is Bodhi, but Bodhi could sleep for weeks in the pilot's chair, so Cassian's not sure he's even noticed his room is being used by a trio of Alderaanian women with gold eyes and green hair. K-2 has, but then, K notices everything, and comments on more.

Jyn's settled in at the table when he finally clambers up from the engine room. She'd picked up a new set of knives, on Masalath. He's not sure if she bought them or stole them, but they fit nicely in her hand, and she's putting an edge on them with the same single-minded focus she'd had in mowing down troopers on the ground. Cassian steps over another sleeping Alderaanian, and comes to stand beside the table. He doesn't say anything. Most of his words were used up in convincing Baze to put on the damn bacta patch.

"How's the engine?" Jyn scrapes away at the sharpening stone, scrapes and scrapes, a nice one-two beat that's almost soothing. "She'll hold?"

"So long as we don't have to make the jump to light speed from atmo again."

Jyn eyes him through her ragged bangs, and he thinks, suddenly, that he's seen that green before. Not on her, not in the eyes of any being he's seen other than her, but in the aurora borealis effect on Fest. He swallows that back, and curls his hand together behind him. She cocks an eyebrow.

"The last time we did that was your idea, if I remember right." She sweeps the knife over the stone again. "Did you disable the dampeners?"

Cassian says, "Only in that ship."

Jyn's lips twitch at the corners. She puts the first knife down, and starts on the second. It's about the length of his hand, this new blade, and shaped like a flower petal, fat at the base, cruel to the tip. He rests his hand over it, and when she doesn't smack him, holds the thing in one hand, and then the other. Excellent balance. Then again, Jyn bought or stole them for a reason more than vanity.

"Chirrut and Baze are asleep," says Cassian. "I think."

"They're probably faking," says Jyn, "but at least they're resting."

 _Like you should be,_ he wants to say.

 _So should you_ , says her eyes. She casts a professional look down the edge of the blade, and keeps sharpening. He hesitates, and then touches the back of the chair, just behind her shoulder. On the floor, one of the Alderaanians, a boy of maybe twenty, stirs and mutters. It's good that the kid at least knows how to sleep anywhere, Cassian thinks. He'll have to tuck himself into corners, if he makes it in the Rebellion. Jyn looks up, and then shuffles to the side, a silent invitation. Cassian drops into the chair next to her, and can't help noticing that he's now between her and anyone who might want to drag her out of her nook.

 _Over my dead body_ , he thinks, without irony.

"They're made of Zyrani steel," says Jyn, and nods at the knife in his hand. "Dealer didn't have a clue."

Cassian whistles in silence, and weighs the blade again. "So you enlightened him."

"Hell no," says Jyn. "I just took them off his hands. They're meant to be used, not sold to some rich Imp who puts them on his wall as a way of remembering the barbarians."

Her lip twists into a sneer as she says it. Under the table, their thighs brush, and settle. Hip to hip, knee to knee. She's warm. Cassian rests the Zyrani knife back on the table top, and watches her hands as she sharpens the other, the repetitive motion easing something in the back of his head. Her elbow bumps his as she does it.

"Excuse me," says a voice. It's one of the Alderaanians that's been using his room, blue haired under her headscarf. Her eyebrows are sapphire colored. Cassian lifts his head to look at her. "How much longer?"

 _To base or to sleep?_ Cassian thinks.

"Four hours." Jyn scowls. "Sleep while you can."

The Alderaanian girl--Cassian's fairly sure her name is Ephra--rubs her arms. "I never sleep in space."

"Try to rest, at least," says Cassian. Jyn keeps sharpening. "It'll be a while yet."

Ephra smiles, thinly. She vanishes back into the room.

"Hypocrite," says Jyn, but without sting. She puts the knife down, stows the sharpening stone away in her belt. The blades are winkled up her sleeves before he notices. Still, she doesn't budge, warm and comfortable and comforting next to him, her arm bumping into his ribs. His back is sore, but not as bad as it could be. Jyn leans back against the cushion of the chair, and shuts her eyes. Mostly. She peeps at him through her lashes for a second or two, considering.

"What," Cassian says. Something's pulling at the corners of his mouth. He wants to kiss the dip in her cheek, the little dent that becomes a dimple when she smiles. He doesn't.

Jyn grunts, and then shuffles sideways to rest her head on his shoulder. She sighs. Cassian shifts, too, leans and moves his arm and curls it around the back of her shoulders, settling so she can lean against his chest and not the bone of his arm, so she's not balanced awkwardly with her head tipping against the pillow as much as it is on him. Jyn sighs again, but deeper this time. He does not think about what this will look like, if any of the new recruits wake up to see this.

"Could've been worse," she says. It's half a secret against the fabric of his shirt.

It could have been much worse. A lot of things could have been much worse. He sweeps his thumb back and forth against her back. The collar of his shirt is undone just enough that when she breathes, warmth puffs against the skin of his throat. Her fingers curl into the fabric over his ribs, hidden by her body.

They're still a bit shy, with this. They will be for a while. He knows why. This is new, and raw, something neither of them know how to handle. It's going to take more time than a week spent rescuing and recruiting Alderaanians to the cause to get used to the idea that this is something they both want. It's like clutching at an eggshell, and praying it doesn't shatter in his palms.

Jyn shifts, and Cassian gets ready to let go. Instead, she curls closer against his side, and presses her cold nose against his heartbeat.

"You stink," she says, muffled. The smile tugs harder at his mouth.

"Go to sleep," he says, instead of kissing her hair.

He can feel it when she rolls her eyes, mostly in the way her fingers go tight against his ribcage, but she shuts up. Jyn rubs her nose back and forth against his chest again. The tension in her shoulders eases, a little.

She doesn't sleep. She still rests against him, her eyes closed. They're both armed, his blaster jabbing into his hip, her knives pressing through the fabric of her clothes. He still feels naked when he shifts his hand, and spins a strand of of her hair between his fingers.

Jyn smiles.


End file.
